


Little Bed in the Big Woods

by caesia



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-02-11
Packaged: 2018-01-12 00:06:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1179543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caesia/pseuds/caesia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fluffy fun in the north woods! Written to fill a prompt based on a Text From Last Night: I stared at him for a solid five minutes because he looked like what I imagine god would look like if god was a lumberjack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Bed in the Big Woods

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alienor_woods](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alienor_woods/gifts).



“Don’t you just love the way the trees light up in the sun? Light makes all the difference in the woods. In the late afternoon like this, it’s almost like being in a fairy tale,” Margaery practically sang.

Sansa tripped over another root. To catch herself, she grabbed at a branch near her head. A jagged limb scraped her hand. Flinching, she examined her palm, slightly bloody now and throbbing where the rough wood had pierced the soft pad of her thumb.

“It reminds me of Highgarden. When it was warm enough, we would spend entire days playing in the woods behind the orchards, and even camp out under the stars at night.”

“Marg, it’s definitely beautiful and everything, but don’t you think it’s getting kind of late? We haven’t even made it down the ridge yet.”

Her friend looked unhappy to have her forest rhapsody cut off by practical concerns. “That part of the loop is a lot shorter. We’ll be fine.”

“But we did get a late start,” Sansa persisted. “And we took at least an hour for lunch.”

Margaery rolled her eyes and made an elaborate show of taking off her backpack to find the map. “Alright, trail master. I’ll check our progress.” She spun in a circle, orienting herself. Then she checked her watch.

“Well? Are we almost done?”

Tossing her ponytail over her shoulder, Margaery quickly folded up the map and stuffed it back into her bag. “We’re making okay time. Once the trail cuts back, we’ll have five miles to go, and some of it is downhill.”

“Five miles.” It sounded like an eternity to Sansa.

“It’ll take us less than two hours. I promise,” Margaery insisted. “The only problem is that the trail stays along the eastern side of the ridge, so it’s going to get dark pretty early. And maybe a little bit chilly.”

They started hiking again, this time at a slightly faster pace. Sansa kept one eye on the trail and another on the sinking sun. As late afternoon became early evening, the changing autumn leaves flashed like wildfire in the weakening light. 

When they reached the turning point of the loop, Margaery grinned. “See? That wasn’t so bad. Now we’re on the home stretch.”

 _Never again_ , Sansa repeated to herself as they picked their way down the rocky trail. They’d flown in from opposite coasts to the Midwestern college town where her brother Robb was supposed to be celebrating his engagement, only to receive pained phone calls from the bride-and-groom-to-be that the wedding was off. The circumstances for the break were unclear, even to Sansa, who’d been bombarded by questions until Marg had whisked her up north to escape her oldest sibling’s mess. She should have known that Marg’s idea of “getting away from it all” would include hours of hiking. If she heard one more story about Marg’s blissful childhood in the woods with her older brothers, she was going to scream. Sansa had grown up close to the wilderness, too, but she’d always preferred swimming in the warm, shallow lake owned by the Starks. She’d left it to her brothers and her little sister to go tramping through the woods and get eaten alive by mosquitoes. Her compromise was meeting them in a meadow close to the house to bring them a picnic lunch.

She wished fervently for some of the warmth of those sunny afternoons, even if it meant dealing with grasshoppers on her picnic blanket and screeching cicadas. As Margaery had warned, the trail ran along the shady side of the ridge, and only a few minutes after they’d left the sun behind, Sansa found herself shivering. Her corduroy-lined barn coat had been almost too heavy on the climb up, and she’d left the front undone over her leggings and chambray shirt. Now it was zipped up to her chin.

“Marg, can I grab my scarf out of your bag?” The brunette stopped in place and tugged the white cashmere free from the bottom of her backpack. It wasn’t terribly practical to wear while hiking, but Sansa was thankful for its soft weight draped around her neck. Then she noticed Margaery pulling out earmuffs and gloves for herself.

“Did you know it would get this cold?” Sansa grumbled.

Margaery laughed. “I actually forgot these were in here. Lucky I have them, though!” She noticed Sansa’s frown, then, and softened her tone. “It’s not that cold, darling. And we’ve already walked a half an hour since the trail changed directions.”

It _was_ that cold, though. As the sky darkened, their breath rose in pale plumes. The breeze picked up steadily, rattling the dead leaves that were starting to cover the trail. Sansa could feel her lips and cheeks become chapped from the frosty air. She crossed her arms and tucked her hands into her armpits, sacrificing balance for warmth. Her toes started to tingle inside her boots, and then to go numb, making it even harder to avoid the roots and rocks that studded the ground. Their progress slowed to a crawl as Margaery tried to stay on the trail in the gathering dusk.

Sansa kept her eyes trained on Margaery’s heels, following her footprints as closely as she could. Suddenly, they stopped moving. Looking up, she noticed a light bobbing up and down in the distance ahead. It weaved closer and closer, following the trail along the bottom of the ridge, until it stopped only feet ahead of them.

“Hello?” Sansa called into the blinding glare of the flashlight. It swung from side to side before dropping to point at the ground. She could make out the tall, bulky silhouette of a man.

“Did either of you park a silver SUV at the trailhead?” he said in a gruff voice.

“That’s my car,” Margaery replied. “Is there a problem?”

“You’re hiking at night, without a flashlight, dressed for a summer stroll as a cold front’s about to push through. I think you might have a problem.”He sounded exasperated.

“Sansa made me check the weather twice this morning. It’s not supposed to get below forty tonight,” Margaery pointed out. She clearly didn’t appreciate the man’s implication that they’d been irresponsible.

He grunted in a way Sansa thought might have been apologetic. “Forecasts around here aren’t too reliable. It’s already below freezing, and there’s snow moving in from the west.”  Stepping towards them, he fiddled with the flashlight. For an instant, the light went out, and Sansa jumped, startled at how dark the evening had become. Then he turned it back on, having converted the black cylinder into a lantern.

In the softer circle of light, Sansa could finally see their rescuer. He wore a thick wool coat in red and black plaid with the collar turned up against the wind. A dark beard, trimmed short, framed his face. His eyes were startlingly young, and they gleamed silver as he examined her and Margaery in turn.

“Are you a lumberjack?” Sansa blurted. _Or an angel?_ But her thought was drowned out by his sharp laugh.

“Lumberjacks went extinct in the 40’s. I’m a park ranger. Off duty,” he explained, motioning at his lack of uniform. “I was driving past the park entrance and I didn’t recognize your car. I know most of the regulars who hike around here.”

“How far is it to the end of the trail?” she asked, trying to keep her voice from trembling in the cold.

Apparently she failed. He peered more closely at her face, the furrows between his eyes growing deeper. “Could you hold this?” He passed Margaery the lantern and placed a gloved hand on her cheek, turning it toward the light. Sansa couldn’t help but lean into his touch, even though her face felt numb.

“Woah, steady,” he said, his voice softer now. He took off his glove and touched her cheek again with his bare hand, placing his other hand on her shoulder to help keep her upright. “Have you been drinking? Staying hydrated?”

“Our water’s probably frozen by now,” Sansa said earnestly. The corners of his mouth twitched. She did feel a little lightheaded, though it seemed to her it was most likely due to the warmth of his skin and the piercing grey of his eyes. Margaery was already rummaging around in her backpack.

“Here.” Sansa reached out to take the water bottle from her, but her hands were curled into fists from the cold.

“Just a minute,” the man murmured. He held his glove open in front of him, guiding it around her stiff fingers. Then he did the same with his other glove. They flopped from her wrists a little foolishly, much too large for her hands, even if she could have fit her fingers into the proper openings. Unscrewing the cap, he tilted the bottle to her lips, supporting her head as she tipped it back to catch more water. He wasn’t satisfied until more than half of it was gone. Then he handed it back to Margaery. “You finish the rest.”

While she drank, the man turned back to Sansa. “You weren’t planning on camping here overnight, were you?”

She shook her head vehemently. “No, we just drove up for the day.” The water didn’t make her feel any warmer, but already Sansa’s mind was less fuzzy. “We’re so sorry for causing so much trouble. I’m Sansa, and this is Margaery.”

“I’m Jon,” he said. “It’s no trouble. I just want to get you off the trail before it gets much colder.”

They started to hike again, Margaery leading with the lantern while Sansa followed close behind with Jon by her side. He let her set the pace, offering his hand to help her whenever there were fallen trees or rocks to navigate. Near the trailhead, the path descended at a steep angle, and the sight sent Sansa’s knees knocking together. Jon took a careful look down the slope and back at Sansa before crooking his arm. Abandoning her last scrap of pride, she clutched his elbow the rest of the way to the parking lot.

Next to Margaery’s car was parked a well-used pickup truck. As they approached, a black nose peeked above the edge of the truck bed. Then a huge white dog was streaking across the gravel towards them, tongue lolling carelessly out of the side of its mouth.

“Ghost, heel.” Jon ordered. The dog licked his hand once before it burrowed its head in Sansa’s midsection, wagging furiously. “Sorry, he’s not usually so enthusiastic about meeting new people.”

“That’s okay.” Her voice was muffled by Ghost’s fur where she’d buried her face in his warm neck. “Hello, puppy!” He wagged even harder.

While Sansa cuddled with the dog, Margaery made arrangements to follow Jon’s truck into town to find somewhere they could both warm up. Reluctantly, Sansa gave Ghost a final scratch on the head and slid into the passenger side of Margaery’s car.

Snowflakes began to drift down from the sky, reflecting brightly in Jon’s taillights in front of them. Sansa tried to glimpse the woods as they drove by, but the glow from Margaery’s dash instruments turned her window into a dark mirror.

“That was nice of him, to go looking on the trail for us,” she mused.

“Nice? The man’s a grouch.”

Sansa looked across the car at her friend. “Maybe he was a little gruff, but at least he helped us. You can’t deny that it was a lot easier to find the trail with a flashlight.” She rubbed the tops of her legs to warm them, still wearing the oversized gloves he’d given her.

Margaery rolled her eyes. “I know I should have checked when it would get dark, and I’m sorry we weren’t totally prepared for the cold. But we weren’t going to die from exposure or anything dramatic, and he was _so_ condescending.”

“I think he was just worried about us. He probably has to do search and rescue stuff a lot, especially in the winter.” From behind the wheel, Margaery snorted and muttered something sarcastic under her breath.

“What?”

“Nothing. Keep acting like you’re going to faint, and maybe he’ll be nice enough to set us up with a place to stay tonight. There’s no way we’re making the drive back in this weather.”

 

 

A block off of the main street, they followed Jon’s pickup into a half-empty parking lot by an old tavern. Its windows buzzed with old neon signs advertising beer labels. Jon held open the heavy door, marked _Hardin’s_ , and guided them inside.

Past the vacant hostess station, Sansa could see a long wooden bar that occupied an entire wall of the room. Two men sat at the far end, watching a hockey game on a small tv propped in the corner. Jon led them to a pair of empty stools, raising a hand to greet the statuesque blonde drying glasses behind the bar.

“Snow!” she nodded, bright eyes gleaming. “Stopping by for a drink? Would have thought you’d be putting in overtime at the ranger station, what with this storm.” She winked at the two women, obviously unimpressed by the snow falling outside.

“Very funny, Val. These two got caught hiking after dark and they need to warm up.”

The woman named Val wrinkled her striking features in a scowl as she passed menus to Margaery and Sansa. “You _would_ go checking trails on your day off. That sense of duty keep you warm at night, Snow?”

He frowned. “I’ve got to take Ghost upstairs.”

“Wait! Your gloves,” Sansa remembered, pulling them off. His fingertips were cold where they brushed hers as he took them, and she regretted not returning them earlier. “Thank you. They helped a lot.”

The corners of his mouth tightened into a fleeting smile. “Good.”

When she turned back to the bar, Val was already pouring a beer for Margaery, who leaned on an elbow draped casually on the polished wood. “I don’t think Jon’s ever met a pair of pretty women to rescue, just a lot of drunk teenagers and couples from Chicago up here on day trips. You should take a picture with him so he can hang it on his fridge.”

Margaery pulled her hair out of its ponytail and flicked it over her shoulder, flashing a coy smile. “I bet Sansa would love to pose with him.”

“Just her?” Val challenged, mirroring her smile.

Sansa crossed her arms, partially from annoyance and partially because she was still cold. “I just appreciated his help, Marg.” _And that he looks like a lumberjack. A very strong, concerned lumberjack. That’s all._

The bartender looked her over. “You’re still freezing, sweetheart. Let me get you some soup and something warm to drink.” She pulled down two large mugs from a rack hanging from the ceiling and arranged various bottles on the back counter of the bar. Margaery watched her and sipped her beer idly. When Val returned, both mugs were steaming. She handed Sansa a spoon.

While Sansa focused on swallowing the rich soup, Margaery and Val chatted. It turned out the blonde didn’t only tend bar, but she also owned the whole establishment, as well as the two apartments upstairs where she and Jon both lived.

“Do you think he’ll come back?” Sansa asked, looking up from her last bite.

“Sure, he’ll come have a beer or two. He’s just sore because I made fun of him. The guy needs to lighten up.”

“It sounds like he’s really committed to his job,” Sansa commented, trying to sound casual.

Val waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, he is, but he also uses it as an excuse not to get too close to anyone. No one moves this far from home unless they’re running from something. As if he couldn’t be a park ranger in Vermont.”

Sansa sat up a little straighter at the mention of her home state. Before she could ask more about Jon,  Margaery steered the conversation away from the mysterious man.

“What about you? Owning a place like this must keep you pretty busy.”

Val gave a throaty laugh. “Not too busy to meet people. Most of my customers aren’t my type, though.”

“That’s a shame.” Margaery leaned a little further forward on the bar. Sansa recognized her expression and sighed internally, picking up her second mug. Clearly Marg had a plan for where _she_ would be spending the night.

The golden liquid was sweet and lightly spiced, but it burned as she swallowed, and heat flooded her cheeks. “This isn’t tea.”

“I didn’t say it was. But it’ll thaw you out in no time,” Val promised.

Sansa continued to sip her drink, enjoying the mellow warmth that spread through her limbs. Val flitted back and forth across the bar, pouring more beers as folks drifted in, dusted in snow. She kept returning to talk to Margaery and check on Sansa’s drink, which she replaced as soon as Sansa finished it. Halfway through her second, Jon shouldered his way back to the bar.

“Hi!” Sansa greeted him more enthusiastically than she’d meant.

“Hi. How are you feeling?”

She smiled brightly. “Much better. I’m all warmed up.” His brows came together in concern as he peered into her mug. “It’s not tea,” she told him.

“If I know Val, and I do, it’s at least half brandy. No wonder you feel so warm.” He ducked his head as Val passed him a beer, smirking.

“Someone had to take care of her after you ran away to mope in your room. And that’s my Oma’s toddy recipe. Have some respect.”

Jon raised his hands in defeat and took a long drink. An older couple came in and settled on the stools to his other side, so he moved to stand closer to Sansa. Without his coat, he appeared much less bulky, though Sansa was still impressed by his broad frame. He had changed into a thick black sweater with the sleeves rolled up almost to his elbows, which he tucked close to his side to avoid bumping her. She tried to draw him into conversation. “Val said you’re originally from Vermont. What area?”

He looked surprised, and more than a touch suspicious that they’d been discussing him. “South of Burlington.”

“That’s not far from where I grew up. Where did you go to school?”

Jon named a public high school from the next district over. Sansa squinted as she tried to think whether she knew anyone else who’d gone there.

“I boarded in Connecticut, but I know the name. Is your family still in the area?”

He scratched at the stubble covering his cheeks. “I grew up in foster care, actually. But I think my mom’s family still lives close by.”

Quickly, Sansa changed the subject. “Do you ever miss the mountains, living here? It felt so strange, hiking today without any actual peaks in sight.”

He smiled wistfully. “I do. It makes my job easier, though, not having to worry about avalanches and ice climbers. I can’t imagine carrying you down a thousand foot drop in elevation.” He nudged her arm lightly.

“Good thing you didn’t have to carry me at all.” Sansa turned to Margaery to hide her blush at the image of Jon lifting her in his arms, but she was deep in conversation with Val, their heads bent close together. The couple next to Jon gave a loud greeting as another group came in, and he was jostled into her, so that his chest pressed against her shoulder.  For the rest of the evening, he remained close by her side. The longer they talked, the more he relaxed, until his voice lost its gruff edge and his shoulders settled out of their defensive slump.

Near midnight, a tall man with a thick black beard shuffled out from the kitchen, brushing melting snow from his shoulders. Val whooped. “You’re closing, Tor!” She cleared the bar of empty glasses and put them upside down on a rack of dirty dishes, then scooted around the bar. “Are you ready to call it a night?” She directed the question at Margaery.

Jon looked surprised. “Are you guys spending the night at Val’s?”

Margaery shot a pointed look between Sansa and Jon, and Val spoke up. “Why don’t you invite Sansa to sleep at your place. Then they’ll both have more room.”

Uncomfortable with the suggestion, Jon crossed his arms. “I don’t think she...” Glancing at Sansa, he trailed off.

On a normal night, Sansa would have taken this as a rejection, but between the alcohol in her system and Jon’s broad shoulders, she felt bold. “I was Margaery’s roommate for a year, and I _know_ I won’t sleep a wink sharing an apartment with the two of them. Please?”

“Are you sure? I don’t have a lot of space either,” he warned, shaking his head.

“I’m sure.” Satisfied that Sansa had a place to sleep, Margaery and Val headed immediately for a set of stairs at the other end of the room, throwing casual goodnights over their shoulders. Sansa twisted in her seat and slipped off the bar stool. As soon as she was on her feet, the room began to spin gently. Fighting the weakness that flooded her limbs, she reached for Jon’s arm and followed him to the door, determined not to let her tipsy legs get the best of her. The blast of cold air that struck her face when they left the building helped clear her head, and she made it up the stairs to his apartment without embarrassing herself.

Inside, Ghost greeted her, planting his paws firmly on her shoulders and sniffing at her ears. She giggled, rocking back on her heels, and only Jon’s hand between her shoulder blades kept her upright. “Off, Ghost!”

His apartment was small and sparsely furnished. It was obvious that the second story of the bar had once been a single apartment, and now Jon lived in half of the original space. The room lacked a real kitchen; instead, a microwave and hot plate sat side by side on a long table against the wall. In the corner, under a set of plywood cabinets, a black mini-fridge hummed. Across the room, two armchairs upholstered in faded blue corduroy flanked a brick fireplace. It looked cold and bare as the rest of the room.

“I’ll, um, go turn on the space heater in my room,” Jon said, ducking through the only door. Sansa wandered over to one of the chairs and trailed her fingers along the worn fabric. She perched on a thinly padded arm and Ghost settled his head in her lap.

“What kind of dog is he?” she asked when Jon returned. “My family breeds malamutes, but Ghost seems even bigger than they usually are, and I’ve never seen one that was completely white.”

“Malamutes?” Jon jerked his head. “I don’t know, I always figured he was some kind of mutt.” He stood right next to his bedroom door and wiped his hands nervously across his stomach. “Is there anything I can get you? I don’t really have much food, but there’s beer and orange juice in the fridge.”

“Could I have a glass of water?” He gave a sharp nod and rummaged around in the cabinets.

“Thanks. Someone told me earlier today it was important to stay hydrated,” she teased

He looked sheepish as he handed her a full glass. “I didn’t mean to be so sharp, I was just worried. Your lips were practically blue.”

Sansa decided she liked teasing him. She took a long sip and licked away the drops that clung to her mouth, then smiled. “How do they look now?”

Jon swallowed. “Good. Perfect. Uh, I’m going to go get fresh sheets.” He retreated into his bedroom and closed the door.

“He’s not very comfortable around women, is he?” Sansa whispered to Ghost as she scratched his ears. “And I bet you try to help him out, too, don’t you, puppy. Margaery thinks it’s silly that I like him, but I think he might be a really good guy. He just needs someone to loosen him up a little. What do you think?” Ghost closed his eyes in contentment, but he didn’t answer.

Jon reemerged. “The bed’s ready whenever you get tired, and I put a clean towel out in case you want to shower.” This time, he made eye contact as he spoke to her, and he didn’t slump. Sansa smiled to herself at the thought of him giving himself a pep talk as he made his bed.

“Do you have anything I could wear to sleep in? Something warm?”

“Yeah, let me look.” Sansa stood and followed him back into his room where he opened the top drawer of his dresser. She glimpsed white t-shirts and navy boxers before he shoved it closed. “Everything in the lower drawers is clean, so just grab whatever you want.”

“Thanks so much. I really do appreciate all the trouble you’ve gone to.” She gave him her most charming smile.

He smiled back, a little bit crookedly. “I told you before, it’s no problem. It’s my job to help people out.”

“Somehow I doubt you have to host stranded travelers in your bedroom every weekend.” Sansa pointed out.

His smile widened, revealing a flash of teeth. “None as pretty as you are.” The unexpected compliment went racing through her veins, warmer even than Val’s brandy. She tilted her head demurely and picked up the towel he’d left on the bed.

“I think I’ll go ahead and shower now, if you don’t mind.”

Once he left the room, she sifted through his clothes until she found an oversized red flannel shirt. Grinning, she brought it into his cramped bathroom and set it on the toilet seat, placing her towel on top. She hurried to shower while the water stayed hot, using Jon’s drugstore shampoo as body wash after she lathered it through her hair. After she finished, she dried her hair, darkened to rich copper by the water, as best she could and braided it behind her ears. Slipping the soft flannel around her body, she carefully rolled the sleeves halfway up her forearms and buttoned the front down to where the fabric covered the tops of her thighs. She took a deep breath, feeling a little giddy, and stepped out into the main room.

Jon sat in her vacated chair, staring out the window at the snow while he scratched Ghost’s shoulders. When he glanced over at her, his hand froze, and his eyes got stuck about six inches above her bare knees.

“Now I look like a lumberjack,” Sansa joked, crossing the room to retrieve her water. She drained the glass and smiled to find Jon still transfixed by her legs. “Should I put this in the sink?”

He looked at her blankly for a second before nodding. She could feel his eyes tracing her the whole way to his makeshift kitchen. After he recovered, clearing his throat, he gestured to his chair. “I’m just going to settle down here for the night. Sleep well.”

Sansa refused to hear of it. “I can’t possible make you sleep out here. It’s too cold, for one thing, and those chairs are nothing but broken springs. We can share the bed. Like…like mature adults.”

He winced. “I don’t think phrasing it that way makes it sound any better.”

Rolling her eyes, she replied, “I promise I’m not going to try anything in the middle of the night. Now, stop posturing and come to bed.”

Jon gave the door to his room a searching look. “I’m not posturing,” he argued, “I just don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. And I’m not entirely sure you’re sober yet.”

Sansa opened her mouth to lie that the brandy had worn off, but she was interrupted by a long groan from the other apartment. A series of high, breathy yelps followed. Jon stared at the wall in disbelief.

“Margaery has a noise kink, and she likes to show off. Trust me, it’s not going to die down for a while. Come into the bedroom and we can shut it out.”

He followed her so slowly that she was already under the quilt when he reached the door. He floundered for a moment, then closed it behind him, and Sansa watched his back with interest as he dug through his dresser drawers. He pulled out a clean t-shirt and hesitated. “Do you mind if I sleep in boxers? I don’t really have a lot of pants that aren’t made for wearing outdoors.”

“That’s fine.” While he went into the bathroom to change, Sansa combed out her damp hair with her fingers, wondering what Val would say about a man who wore work clothes so often that he didn’t even own a pair of sweats. She agreed with the blonde- he had to be running from something.

When Jon turned the lights off, Sansa’s nerves began to buzz with tension. She fought to keep still as he fumbled with the blinds and slid under the covers. The double bed was barely big enough for the two of them, yet she could feel him straining to stay as close to the edge as possible. She tugged the thin quilt higher and shifted her weight to get comfortable. Her foot brushed his calf.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “Your feet are freezing.”

“All of me is freezing,” she whispered back. “How do you sleep with only one blanket? And it’s not even down.” She stretched her legs out further, seeking his body heat. He swore again when her feet made contact, but he didn’t pull away.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he said grimly.

“Please? Come a little closer, until I warm up? You hiked all the way down that trail to find us, so you can’t just leave me here to shiver all night.”

He stifled a groan, trapping the low sound against the mattress, but to her surprise, he obeyed. Rolling to his side, he let her legs tangle with his and pressed his warm feet against her own. “Lift up,” he grunted, sliding his arm forward under her head so that her cheek rested against the inside of his bicep. The motion brought their bodies close enough that she could feel the heat of him down her back. His other hand settled on the side of her hip.

“Goodnight,” Sansa whispered.

The hand disappeared, and for a moment her stomach dropped in disappointment. Then gentle fingers brushed her forehead and tucked a few errant strands of hair behind her ear. She trembled as Jon traced a tender path down her side and back to her hip. Closing her eyes, she bit her lip to keep from sighing and willed herself to sleep.

 

 

Consciousness slowly pulled Sansa from her warm cocoon of sweet dreams. Her blankets were draped heavily across her body, pinning her to the bed, and her bottom leg was trapped. Then a warm puff of air tickled her forehead, and she blinked her eyes open.

Jon. She was in bed with Jon. They’d rolled to face one another during the night, though their legs were still tightly entwined and his upper arm still cradled her head. As her awareness grew, she could feel his fingers tangled in her hair at the base of her neck. Her hands were tucked together in front of her chest, the way she’d slept when she was a little girl. Sansa took a deep breath, enjoying the novelty of waking up in a pair of strong arms.

Too soon, she heard her phone buzz from across the room, where her clothes sat folded neatly. With reluctance, she lifted Jon’s arm from her ribcage and tried to scoot away. He tightened his grip on her hair with his other hand, murmuring “Wait,” into her hairline.

“Jon,” she said quietly, her voice rough from sleep. She reached out to shake his shoulder, but he didn’t respond. “Jon, wake up,”

Sudden, sharp knocks pounded on the door to his apartment in a violent barrage. “Open up, Snow!”

Jon sat up with a start, looked at Sansa with amazement, and pulled the quilt firmly over his lap. “It’s Val,” he stated flatly before clearing his throat.

“I’ll text Marg that we’ll be out in a few minutes,” Sansa said, diving for her phone. On the floor, she remembered too late that her appropriated nightgown barely covered her legs, so she stood up quickly. After she read through Margaery’s messages and sent a hurried response, she met Jon’s gaze. He stared at her, adorably rumpled, and she wanted nothing more than to climb back in beside him. Instead, she scooped up her clothes, conscious this time of keeping her shirt from riding up. “I’m going to get dressed.”

She barely heard his response as she ducked into the bathroom. When she emerged, feeling considerably more awake after rinsing her mouth with a dab of his toothpaste, he had pulled jeans on over his boxers, and he sat on the edge of the bed putting on socks.

“Margaery and I have to get going,” she started apologetically. “We’re supposed to be back by lunchtime to see my brother. Where’s your phone?”

“Right. What? Um, check the top of my dresser.”

Sansa found it and started tapping buttons without saying a word. She hesitated for a moment over entering her last name, but decided to include it. Her first name was easy enough to search anyway, so giving him her full name couldn’t make much of a difference. He stood up from the bed just as she was finishing, and she handed him the phone, screen still glowing.

“I gave you my number.” Jon froze, eyes intent on her face. “If you’re ever back in Vermont, I want you to give me a call. I’d like to see you again.”

“I will,” he promised. Then Sansa leaned up on her tiptoes, grabbing his shoulder with one hand to steady herself. She saw his eyes darken in anticipation just before her cheek grazed his.

“Goodbye,” she breathed into his ear.

Her last glimpse of him as she left caught him holding his phone with both hands, mouth open slightly in a dazed way. She slipped out the door, meeting Margaery and Val’s suggestive looks with a secretive smile, and laughed all the way to the car.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! To gift me more goofy prompts, check me out on [tumblr](http://www.caesiamusa.tumblr.com)!


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